


Body Language

by girlintheglen



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-03
Updated: 2017-07-03
Packaged: 2018-11-23 00:13:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11391339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/girlintheglen/pseuds/girlintheglen
Summary: A hint of het intentions...and some altered art





	Body Language

**Author's Note:**

> A hint of het intentions...and some altered art

  


How many times would the thugs from THRUSH catch and brutalize the men from UNCLE?  Illya wondered that now as he slumped over from fatigue and pain, a collar and **leash** the only thing holding him up from total collapse.  He was stripped down to his boxers, _again_ he thought wearily. His upper body was bruised and randomly slashed by the whip end of a riding crop.  The man responsible was standing in the doorway, admiring his own brand of sadism.

"You are a beaten man, Kuryakin.  Oh, do forgive the pun, that was cruel."  He laughed at his joke, prompting the two grunts hovering over Illya to do the same.

Illya was not likely to give in to the pronouncement.  He lifted his head in defiance of the pain and the humiliation of being in this unfortunate position.

"You are a fool Caspar.  I have no doubt that as I speak there are…"

Brandon Caspar laughed and sneered at the Russian's feeble threat.

"Oh yes, I'm quaking in my boots.  I'm sure your partner and others are swarming over my property.  Oh wait, they don't know where we are!"  He howled at the thought of UNCLE agents going to the wrong location; the one he had sent them after he took Kuryakin.

 _"You really ought to start quaking now, Caspar."_   That voice, the insolent American accent.

Caspar turned to find Napoleon Solo taking aim at his chest as Mark Slate and April Dancer came into the room.  The two men with Caspar offered no resistance, and Napoleon decided to dart the THRUSH kingpin on principle.  And for Illya.

As Caspar fell to the floor, Napoleon headed towards his partner.  Illya was very glad to be rescued, but the world was turning a shade of **grey** now that he recognized as unconsciousness.  Napoleon caught him before his head hit the floor, calling in more agents to help move him into the helicopter that was waiting out on the lawn.  Everything else was in order, law enforcement had won another battle.

When Illya came back to life, or so he presumed, he was surrounded by a cloud of comforting, soft white light and the smell of clean sheets.  Rather than subject the agent to hospital gowns, he had instead been placed in a bed with Egyptian cotton sheets; it was an accommodation reserved for those whose injuries made them sensitive to touch.  Additionally, he was allowed to luxuriate beneath those sheets in his natural state… buck naked.  It felt glorious, almost like being in his own bed.

Napoleon came into the room just as Illya was waking up from his long slumber.  The drugs had done their job, helping the blond to sleep for nearly twelve hours.

"Well, how's the patient?  And, don't get up, please.  You're not dressed for company."  Illya lifted the sheet to peek at his own body, fully aware now that he hadn't been given any hospital clothing.

"They thought your sensitivity, after the THRUSH drugs and the, um…"

"Beatings?  Yes, I remember all of it, thank you."

"So, are you hungry?"  Illya laughed at that.

"Do you crave female company?"  Napoleon let his head roll to one side as he feigned indignation.

"Fine, so you are hungry.  Okay, I'll spring for something and eat with you here in your room.  Oh, and I invited Mark and April."  That surprised Illya, but he would be glad to have the company.  The rest had restored his appetite and good humor.

"That sounds like a nice evening, thank you."  Napoleon nodded his acknowledgement.

April and Mark came into the room with bags of food and two bottles of wine.  Illya was off the meds and so permission had been granted for him to have something, a little something, alcoholic.  April looked him over and, on a whim, turned back his sheet with a large flourish.

"Oh! Oh, Illya… I'm… Oh…" Stark naked and glad to see her, she quickly covered him up again and blushed until her face was hotter than the food she and Mark and brought.  For his part, Illya never said anything or acted as though it had bothered him.  Napoleon and Mark were stunned and then amused to the point of laughing out loud.

"That's my partner."  Mark set down the bags he was holding and pulled out a chair for the flustered agent.  Why must she always make a fool of herself around Kuryakin?  April was kicking herself on the inside.

"Okay, show's over folks.  I say we eat.  Illya?"  It was a good thing he wasn't shy about his body, although now seemed like a good time to ask for his clothes.

As for April, in spite of her protests, she had very much enjoyed what she saw for that brief moment.  Like the petals on a daisy, something told her that Illya Kuryakin liked her.

A Lot.  
  



End file.
